


So long

by Flockofbirds42



Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: AU, Get Together, M/M, Pilots, dumb fools in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28779213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flockofbirds42/pseuds/Flockofbirds42
Summary: A mission in China, piloting a commercial aircraft, Amsterdam, and two friends in love with each other. A day in the life.
Relationships: Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt
Kudos: 10





	So long

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo. This is my first fic ever, and I don't really know if it makes sense or not. English is not my first language, so there might be some grammar mistakes and some not-so-smooth bits. Apologies in advance. Also, apologies to pilots and people who actually know about planes, because what I did back there is heretical.

“Oh, shit, shit, shit, for the mother of god” Benji muttered to himself, wishing he had followed Ethan’s advice and gotten some flying hours on the IMF’s behalf. He hadn’t, hence his swearing. There was definitely something wrong with the KLM Boeing 747 he was –temporarily– manouvring. It was kind of a funny story, really. The whole team had spent a whole week in Beijing for an ordinary IMF mission: going after a high-level agent who had gone rogue with –not nuclear– but pretty significant number of codes and data on high-level US government officials, which he was to sell to some chinese bidder. Ethan & Co. were basically experiencing, in the flesh, the consequences in international (and espionage) relations of the Trump’s administration and China’s government fallout. Everything had almost gone terribly wrong, but, then again, in typical Ethan Hunt fashion, the mission had succeeded. Ethan and Benji found themselves in Beijing’s international airport disguised as two KLM Airlines pilots (two Dutch pilots –they didn’t even look, or speak, for that matter, dutch), stolen disk with them. The disguise and the cover story was, it seems, so insanely believable, that they did end up having to pilot KLM flight 892 heading to Amsterdam from Beijing: clearly, it had been a misunderstanding. In Benji’s eyes, a misunderstanding that could have been easily fixed with Luther’s help and Ethan’s will. But they had neither. A bit of bad luck, mixed up with Ethan not trying convince a random KLM operator in Beijing that they didn’t belong in that flight, and who unknowingly checked them in, ended up with them being the assigned duplet for the flight. When they let Ilsa, Luther and Jane know about the change of plans –that being, that they wouldn’t be able to return and join the team at the safe house, and that they would only be able to leave the airport by flying a plane to Amsterdam, of all places– Luther seemingly choked on air, while starting to cough, and Ilsa responded with a diligent “alright jongens, let us know as you touch down” while, clearly, giggling. She had, 5 minutes later, sent 2 simple messages to their burner phones: “enjoy 420”. Meanwhile, in the cockpit, Ethan seemed amused by the turn of events (“Well, I haven’t flown an airline plane in ages… and it’s been ages since I’ve been to Amsterdam” was his only comment before starting to do the pre-flight checks), and Benji was… outraged:  
“Ethan, we can’t, we just can’t. It’s wrong”. Having to fly an actual 747 was the least of his worries: he was so not looking forward to spending 12 hours straight sitting next to Ethan while romantically-looking-at-the-sunset-out-of-a-window-trapped-in-a-cockpit.  
“There’s no choice now, Benji. They got us in the system, they checked us in. Not following through would be suspicious. Disappearing into thin air would be suspicious. Let’s just get it over with. We fly there, we get out of the airport and then figure out a way to get back to DC” Ethan responded, matter of factly.  
“But we are not even dutch! Do… do you even know a word of dutch?! Who even came up with the whole dutch-pilots-thing? I sure hope it wasn’t yoTHIS ISN’T FUNNY ETHAN” Ethan mischievous smile was making its appearance, “Cabin announcements, for god’s sake. Couldn’t we have been some Delta pilots? I mean, that would have been a more logical step to follow. Oh god, they’re so gonna get us, we’re so fucked”, Exasperated was not enough to describe his current mental situation. Locked in a dutch prison for life, here they come.  
“Benji” Ethan said, looking at him funny, while leaning to grab his left arm in sympathy, “it’s gonna be just fine, I got this. Flying, it’s gonna be great, you’ll love it. Nothing’s gonna happen to us”.  
And with that, Benji gave up. Ethan did want to fly that beast, he didn’t look afraid, nor concerned, nor in panic. He sighed, accepting his faith and gripping the edge of the co-pilot’s seat. Maybe, after all, 12 hours sitting next to Ethan and dutch prisons wouldn’t be that bad.

Boy, was he wrong.  
Take off went just fine. No cross wind, no out-of-power turbine, no stalling, nor whatever else one could come up with when flying a jet. The pilot looked in his element: “Ah, you hear that Benj, hear that engine, hear that sound. Beautiful”. It was moving to see him like that: the ever driven, focused, and, mainly rational spy he knew, his friend, sounded utterly enthralled. He’d never seen him like that, moved by a passion other than their missions. Happiness ghosted across his face: he looked focused, but… he looked home. They were flying towards the sun, which was slowly but surely setting: the last rays of sunshine soaked their eyes, and the cockpit turned a shade darker. Benji was trying his best: he tried to stay out of Ethan’s way when making route and flight decisions, and he also managed to make the pilot’s announcement without making a fool of himself –or his broken dutch, with some success, one might say. A loud beep, followed by Ethan’s voice, brought him out of his mid-air-thoughts:  
“Alright. We’ve reached enough altitude. I’m turning the autopilot on. Seems like there’s gonna be little to no turbulence, so it should be a tranquil flight. 747’s are monster aircrafts Benji, it’s gonna fly itself. You still nervous?” he asked, turning and tilting his head.  
“Me-still-nervous? What’s…? Oh! English Benji. Am I still nervous? Well. I’ll manage. I trust you and you’ve been doing… quite good. We’re not stalling, that makes you a completely brilliant and capable pilot Ethan, thank you”, Benji answered mockingly.  
“Ah, the joy of not stalling. Brilliant, innit?” he said, cheekily.  
“Is that…? Are you… are you making fun of my accent, Ethan Hunt?”  
“Am I… making fun of your accent, Benjamin Dunn?” Ethan replied, playfully, in an irritatingly accurate Gloucester accent.  
“Unbelievable… what one has to hear” Benji muttered, shaking his head. He was flustered. Ethan’s playful tone was only friendly, but their friendship and its tones were becoming a bit too much for Benjamin to handle. He felt his cheeks get warm, and, he could picture it, too, a bright shade of red. He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he looked through the window. The stars were bright, shining, their presence seemed to fill the space around them. Silence filled the cockpit. Peaceful.  
A couple of minutes later, Ethan broke the silence, muttering: “It’s beautiful up here… pure and lonely, at the same time. Flying is lonesome. Intense, seeing everything from above. Makes you think of how small and vulnerable we are”,  
“You look tired… Ever think of that while running around on missions?”  
“Of being tired or of existential questions? Either way, running is no time nor place to question one’s existence and place on earth, is it? There’s also no time to think about being tired. Now, on the other hand, we’ve got time” Ethan sighed, “We need time” he muttered, looking back at him. They did need time. All that running around was emotionally draining. His earlier playful mood had turned darker, tired, older, but at peace. He’d taken his jacket off, shirt sleeves up, hair messy, falling on his eyes. There was something unsaid there, in his eyes, in their friendship. Benji knew it, but wasn’t sure about what it was, specifically. All he was certain of, is that neither of them would dare to break their tacit agreement: heart-eyes and lingering touches were as much as they were gonna get. They had become closer, as years went by. Intimately closer. Especially after the whole Lane-in-London-and-Kashmir endeavor, when they unconsciously turned towards each other. Careful touches, careful words, carefully waiting to hear the other’s voice in the intercom. Everything that happened between them could be seen, from afar, like a close friendship. But the lingering shoulder touches, the never ending “Are you ok?”’s to each other, and the “Benj” appearing in Ethan’s mouth when on their own, all spoke of something else to them. Unsaid, but something else. The world became theirs when they were together.  
At the beginning, all of their interactions took place while working, but as time went by, things changed: after a bunch of celebratory mission drinks, after Benji helping Ethan with programming his apartment’s security system, after Ethan messaging Benji late at night to make sure he ate his meals, after repetitively and stupidly coming across each other while grocery shopping, they became joined-at-the-hip kind of friends. And before anything else, came their friendship. Benji knew Ethan cared for him, but coming clean with how he felt seemed way too risky. Maybe he’d tell him, sometime, someday, when things were quieter. When they had time. Not stolen time in an airplane cockpit. Real time.  
However, for now, their temporal closeness trapped in an aircraft cockpit, looking at the night sky, would do.

A knock on the door shook them out of their mid-air trance. A stewardess had brought them coffee. And that was the first step that led to the current state of affairs in the life of Benji as an inexperienced 747 pilot. He glanced at Ethan. His eyes were redish, his tiredness starting to show.  
“Mate, you look drained, go lay down for a while, I’ll take the controls from here”, said Benji, pretending to know how to handle stuff he absolutely did not know how to handle.  
Stoically sighing and muttering “Benji, I’m fine, stop worrying” while refusing his suggestion, he clumsily missed his mouth while trying -and failing- to take a sip of disgusting airplane coffee (much needed, but still of questionable taste), leaving no doubts about his current state of tiredness.  
“Oh, for goodness sake Ethan, let me…” take care of you, Benji wanted to say. But he sighed, half worried, half laughing, and said: “Would you just… look at yourself? You’re so not fine. Missing your mouth while trying to drink coffee totally screams Ethan’s doesn’t need sleep to me. Totally. Please, do keep your act together, mister. I’m actually quite fond of you, I’d rather not see you choke on coffee while sleep deprived and die on me”. Nervous babble, he was good at this. Ethan was now… staring, just staring, not minding the coffee stains on his shirt, and smiling a deliriously good looking half smile at him. He did look sleep deprived. He looked tired, shiny eyes on for that matter. That’s all you had to look for in Ethan to assess his level of tiredness. But the smile also showed affection. In the devastating silence of the airplane cockpit, mixed with the darkness of the night sky, it screamed affection. Benji swallowed, suddenly warm by the intensity of his interlocutor’s gaze. The look only lasted a few seconds, and Ethan looked as if trying to come up with an adequate answer and argument to stay in the pilot’s seat. But Benji, seemingly not able to keep his mouth shut, when Ethan’s mouth began muttering a shy “Benji…”, resumed his blabbering: “And on top of that, I’d go rogue myself before having to tell the others about you choking on coffee and dying. I’d never go through with it. Imagine the non-sense –so ridiculous. Me telling the others you died? It’s a no-no. I mean it. Okay. Well. Actually, now that I think about it… if you had a coffee induced death right here, right now, I’d actually die as well because I have absolutely no clue –and I was not really planning to let you know about this but here it is, please don’t freak out– how to land this plane”  
Hearing the last word of the sentence, Ethan goofy smile turned into a frown, while groaning, “Benji, come on, I’ve told you a thousand times already, learning to fly a passenger’s jet...”  
“… Is a skill every agent should have, now I know mate, believe me. But, in all seriousness, it’s fine. I know the Airbus basics, Boeing shouldn’t be that different, the Autopilot’s on, we still have some time to go before starting the descent, so… if I get anything funky or out of the ordinary, I’ll just let you know, I promise, I’ll call you as soon as I notice it”. He noticed his sudden serious and no-nonsense demeanour was actually working, so he kept going, “Come on, mate. Just a nap. You’ve got to be a bit more rested before landing. I should have listened to you with the knowing-how-to-fly-an-airplane business, but it’s fine. I’ll manage just fine, I promise you that”.  
“Okay. Alright. Thank you, Benj. I’ll… lie down on the first bunk-bed compartment for an hour and a half. Just use the coms if you see anything out of the ordinary. Don’t forget to check the altitude every ten minutes” Ethan said, while getting up from the seat and reaching for the cabin door, seeming doubtful in his steps. His face turned into a devilish grin while turning back to look at Benji and adding “And… well… you know already. Blue isn’t glue, but red…” And he took off.  
“Red is dead. Yeah. So funny and smart while sleep deprived. So-damn-funny…” Benji muttered to a-now-empty cockpit. It was fine. It was going to be fine. He could do this.

Turns out, Airbus and Boeing were not that different after all and Benji realised he could handle it. An ATC with a funny voice contacted him 10 minutes after Ethan had gone to make him change his altitude, due to the risk of air coalition with another plane. Truth be told, flying on autopilot didn’t require a huge amount of knowledge, just a bit of understanding of the basics and ability to read normal parameters. But still, it had taken a significant amount of concentration, obsessively-remembering-his-airbus-knowledge, and also a couple of seconds of hyperventilating, to safely take control of the aircraft. He climbed a couple of hundred meters and then he set the cruise switch on again. Then exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and felt lighter. It hadn’t been that bad.  
However, almost an hour later things went kind of south. Another aircraft appeared on his radar. Out of nowhere. And it looked to be heading in their direction, at a higher speed. “Alright. Alright” he muttered to himself. First things first. Letting the ATC know.  
“This is KLM flight 892, we request to lower our altitude due to another aircraft appearing on our radar”, He waited.  
And waited.  
“Ehem. This is KLM flight 892, requesting to lower our altitude”, again. No response.  
He tried switching radio channels –didn’t work either. They were on their own. A huge, commercial aircraft, completely on its own. With another aircraft dangerously approaching.  
“Oh, shit, shit, shit, for the mother of god” Benji muttered to himself, wishing he had followed Ethan’s advice and gotten some flying hours on the IMF’s behalf. Maybe he would have learned what to do when the aircraft you’re piloting suddenly goes blind and you’re in the dark, and another unknown aircraft gets dangerously close to you. What was there to do? He couldn’t just… take control of the aircraft and, what, keep flying away, could he? Oh, god.  
And then he remembered Ethan sleeping right across the cockpit and everything seemed clearer. “Ethan. Wake up. We have a situation”, he said, after binding his headphones to Ethan’s sleeping compartment.

Not more than 30 seconds later, a sleepy Ethan appeared in the cockpit. He had a sleeve mark on his face, looked devastatingly cute and somewhat lost. “Get a grip Benji”, he thought to himself, “this is so not the right time to gawk at Ethan”.  
“What is it?” the latter asked, cautiously, in a soft, hoarse voice, while sitting down and adjusting his headphones.  
“I don’t know. I was asked to climb 200 meters. A couple of minutes later that plane”, he explained, pointing at the radar, “appeared, and it’s been getting closer and closer”,  
“Did you contact the ATC?” Ethan interrupted.  
“First thing I did. No answer. We are in the dark, Ethan”,  
“What the hell”, Ethan muttered, “Switched channels?”  
“I did! Not working”  
“It cannot not work, it just can’t. Let’s just…”, he said, while obsessively switching channels again and again, “MAYDAY, MAYDAY, this is KLM flight 892, our radio is not working and an unknown plane is close to us, requesting immediate answer, MAYDAY, MAYDAY”. Turning to look at Benji, he said “this is not good. Not normal. That plane… shouldn’t be that close… But… it… it makes no sense, they can’t be onto us”,  
“What are you on about? Who do you think that is?”  
“I don’t know. But… it’s a cargo plane. Those numbers… right there, in the radar… That's cargo. That means, it’s the same size as this one, might even be bigger. Might be heavier. We are already cruising at top speed, but we need more if we wanna get ahead. Let’s empty our fuel tanks and start descending. Right now”, he said, one sentence after the other, without even breathing. Benji dwelled on the last sentence.  
“No fuel? How are we gonna get there then?”, he looked at Ethan open mouthed.  
“We’re almost there. An hour to go. We don’t need much. Just enough to get close to the airport, then we’ll just… glide”, Ethan explained, without much hesitation, as if he was discussing the color of the sky.  
“Just GLIDE?! What are you on? Our coms aren’t working, Ethan! We won’t be able to let them know we are coming and that we’re gliding! We can’t just glide!”  
“Benji, just empty the tanks, please. Now. We’re gonna be flying low right after that, and we’re gonna be able to pick some signal. Just do it, if they’re really coming towards us, there’s not much time”, he answered, impatiently.  
“Alright, okay. No need to get mad. You’re liable for any mental or physical damage I might have after this” Benji answered, “which I most certainly will have, as a matter of fact”,  
“‘Course I am, of course I am. But we need to lose our tail first” he said, with all the time in the world, as if it was a not-at-all-worrying challenge. “Hold on, I’m taking control of the aircraft. Descent is gonna be fast. You might feel dizzy”,  
“Boy, I was born dizzy” Benji replied, lightly. Ethan gasped, glancing at him. Wide awake now, looking like he was trying to contain laughter.

And so they glided. Ethan did. He managed to glide a Boeing 747.

After emptying the tanks, things went smoothly. They were faster, rapidly lost track of their tail, picked up an airport ATC signal in the South of the Netherlands, which let Schiphol know that a 747 had no fuel and was currently gliding towards Amsterdam, and, then, sort of, safely landed. Business as usual. It was quite exciting, actually, as well as terrifying, to be flying without any engines: no engine roar, just the sound of the plane gliding through air. He’d never admit it, but he found it enjoyable. It was special.  
Right after landing, their international-agents-skills and disguise got them out of Schiphol just fine. They quickly became two american tourists on vacation in the Netherlands, got on the first train they could find heading towards the city, and checked in in a low-key boutique hotel on one of the canals.  
Ethan was sitting at the edge of one of the beds, eyes on his phone. “Hey Benj”, he said to him, looking up, “It was Ilsa and Jane”. Benji blinked.  
“I’m sorry, what? What was Ilsa and Jane exactly?”  
Ethan was looking at him, his eyes answering “you know what” for him.  
“Oh, come on. You’ve got to be joking. It’s… they’re… it was reckless, Ethan! What were they even doing, having a laugh at us?”, Unbelievable. Ilsa and Jane were the undisputed team pranksters, going out of their way to prank any of them, all of them if possible, especially Benji. Every time they got together for a mission, something of the kind happened.  
“They’re saying they didn’t. They’d been following us with that cargo since we took off, the message says, afraid someone was onto us. Trying to look out for us, they say. They tried to communicate with us via coms, but then realised they were interfering and blocking our signals”, he narrated, “I don’t know, Benj. Seems genuine, but I’m too tired to make a fair judgment. Ask Luther, will you?”  
“Yeah. Sure. I will. You rest, I’ll go freshen up a bit and then lie down” he replied, watching Ethan take off his shirt while lying on the bed, still in shock by the whole Jane and Ilsa ordeal. “Benji”, the former said softly, “thanks for looking out for me tonight. I… if it was for me, I would have kept going without any sleep. I appreciate you… making me feel it’s normal to be human. It’s… thank you. Really”, appearing sincere. Benji nodded, smiling at him, and his eyes shut close.  
“I like looking out for you”, Benji muttered, before heading to the toilet. 

Ten hours later, Benji woke up, in the middle of the Dutch night, to someone whispering softly on the phone. It was Ethan, he realised, sleepily. “Yeah, I know Jane, I know (...)”, Ah, Jane. Now he was awake, “he didn’t find it amusing at all (...) quite worried myself. (...) have let us know, we were piloting (...) full of passengers (...) did alright but it can’t happen again, Jane. (...) let you know. Yeah.(...) Take care”, when Ethan hung up, he didn’t get up from the bed, but kept sitting, facing the wall. All Benji could see was his silhouette, but he could tell the other man was still processing, elbows on his knees, head resting in his hands.  
“Hey”, Benji said, softly.  
“Hey. You’re awake. Did I wake you? I tried to keep it down. That was Jane”, Ethan replied, turning to look back at him, in the darkness.  
“I heard. And no, you didn’t. 10 hours is enough sleep”, he said, yawning.  
“Clearly”, he answered, cheekily, “You were tired. And judging from your snores, it seems you had a good night sleep”, He couldn’t see his face, but you could tell in his tone he was messing around.  
“You prat”, the other man growled, while getting up and turning the light on, “You snore too, you know”, he said, rising his eyebrows at Ethan.  
“No, I don’t”, the latter replied, childishly.  
“You do, too, old man”, at this point of the back and forth, Benji was already standing next to him, heading towards the bathroom door.  
“No, I don’t”  
“Yes, you do!”  
“Anyhow, potato, pota” “Ethan!” “Okay. I do. Sometimes. Very rarely. There, you happy? Now. Fancy strolling around the empty Amsterdam streets at 4 in the morning?”, Ethan asked, while getting up.  
“Though you’d never ask”, Benji moked. 

Half an hour later, they were striding along the canals, no destination in mind. Just… walking, around the empty, narrow streets, fighting off the Amsterdam cold. It was freezing. You could feel it in the fingers, in your nose. The lingering winter smell. The streets were still damp with rain from the evening before, the never-ending canals seemed intriguing. They were all alone, in a rather fresh, liberating, atmosphere: invigorating, feeling like after everything they’d been through, anything could be conquered.  
They had sat at a bench, facing the Prinsengracht, in Jordaan, right next to Anne Frank’s house. And then, right there, at 5 in the morning, on a Wednesday, sitting on a bench far from home, Benji had a revealing thought: “It’s built on water and mud”. That’s what came out of his mouth.  
“What is?” Ethan replied, perplexed at the randomness of the affirmation. Benji knew his out of nowhere statement didn’t make any sense. So he turned to face Ethan, and energetically began explaining:  
“Amsterdam is. They-the Dutch, that is, they’ve built a whole city on unstable ground, a mixture of mud and water. That’s why the houses are tilted, you see that? Leaning right or left, against each other? That's because the ground's not stable enough. They’ve made dikes to prevent water from coming in, and trying to keep the ground dry. They’ve basically created the ground they live in. It’s… poetic, really. And it’s a whole city, Ethan. Millions of lives, stories, people. These buildings are 400 years old, they succeeded. An-And… it goes without saying that it took time. It took years. They slowly built it. And even though it's on mud, it stands, tall. They had to literally fight water, fight the forces of nature, of the ocean. Fight the waves that came crushing, potentially messing everything up. It was a swamp, Ethan. And it turned into something beautiful. Well, actually, I’m not saying that frogs and that-sort-of-animals aren’t beautiful but… you know, it was next to nothing, and turned into something… something else”, he said, looking away from Ethan, “something different. And there's you, and there's me”, he sighed. He’d been gesticulating so much during his monologue, that one of his arms was now hanging from the back of the bench, his hand almost touching Ethan’s. He felt Ethan’s fingertips brush, delicately and on purpose, the side of his own hand.  
“Hey”, Ethan whispered, “look at me”, he pleaded.  
Benji turned to face him.  
“I know. And we are here”, the former whispered, “we are here, now”.  
Slowly, he took Benji’s hand in his. They’d gotten closer while sitting. As if they were unconsciously drifting towards the same spot. As if they, together, were the Amsterdam and the swamp. As if their relationship were the buildings, standing tall on unstable ground, but still, not falling. Ethan leaned in, unhurriedly, looking at Benji, taking him in. Their lips, almost touching. But it was Benji the one that closed the last gap between them, brushing his lips, carefully, against Ethan’s. Ethan responded, and they kissed, lazely, with care, sitting on that bench, in that town, at those hours. Cheeks frozen, bodies warmed, hands now firmly interlocked together.  
Til Benji broke apart.  
“Ethan… you and I…”  
“It’s been a long time coming, Benj”, he replied, sweetly. Smiling.  
Benji cocked his head, “Want to have some breakfast?”  
“I’d love to”, Ethan answered, standing and offering his hand to help the other man up.  
And slowly strolling around the city, once a swamp, their hands found each other again. It had been a long time coming.


End file.
